


Taking Responsibility

by everlovingdeer



Series: Harry Potter Short Stories [136]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Relationships, F/M, Fluff, Potions Accident, Secret Crush, Temporary Blindness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21973528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everlovingdeer/pseuds/everlovingdeer
Summary: “I felt so guilty about what happened yesterday,” he started cautiously, his voice sounding so near that I almost thought that he had oriented his body towards my own. “It honestly kept me awake last night until I could figure out a way to make things right. Let me be your eyes until you regain your sight.”
Relationships: Louis Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Louis Weasley/Reader
Series: Harry Potter Short Stories [136]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1461751
Comments: 2
Kudos: 154





	1. Taking Responsibility

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to other sites on 03/11/18 and it's been edited slightly before being posted onto here

At the beginning of the year, I had made the mistake of assuming that because the subjects we took weren’t compulsory any more, people would be much quieter. Surely, since potions wasn’t a subject that we were forced to take, it made perfect sense to think that the students would have the basic instinct of _not_ acting out in a classroom full of rapidly bubbling cauldrons? 

Apparently, I was stupid to think that and Helga, no one seemed to be concerned that it was an accident waiting to happen. Professor Zabini was well known for the attitude he held towards such accidents; if you had been mucking about and got a potion spilt on you, then it was your fault for being such an idiot. But, if you _hadn’t_ been mucking about, and still your potion was spilt, then he didn’t mark you down for it. According to my parents, their Potion’s professor hadn’t been so kind. 

Even if he was still so understanding, he was the sort of person to let idiocy happen around him so his students could learn for themselves. Of course, I didn’t really appreciate the constant threat looming over my boiling cauldron. But thankfully I was coming to the end of the recipe and now all I needed to do was to leave it to boil for five minutes. A short five minutes and it would all be over.

Leaving the cauldron alone, I pulled out my stool from beneath the table and completed the notes that I had set aside when I had started to brew the potion. 

Picking up my quill, I twiddled it between my fingers and pulled my textbook closer to me to see where I had left off. When the sound of laughter around me suddenly increased, I glanced up briefly to find a bunch of Ravenclaw boys at the table in front of mine mucking about with ingredients. Rolling my eyes, but paying them no further attention, I continued to consult the textbook. I really should have kept an eye on them considering that mere seconds later I heard a distinct splash of something falling haphazardly into a cauldron. _My_ cauldron.

Scrambling to my feet, I hurried towards the cauldron on the other end of the table and peered into it to try and see what the damage was. Helga, I didn’t even know what had fallen into the potion so how in Merlin’s name was I going to rectify whatever had gone wrong?

“About your potion,” someone started hesitantly, coming around the table to join me. I briefly recognised his voice as belonging to one of the Ravenclaw’s who had been mucking about. “Look I’m really sorry about the –”

“What was it?” I asked abruptly, stopping him midsentence.

“I’m sorry?”

I frowned into the cauldron, watching the liquid that should have been a calm blue turn into a thick mud-like concoction, both in colour and consistency. “What was chucked into the cauldron?”

“What was –” For a moment it sounded like he didn’t understand before suddenly he too was peering over the cauldron to catch sight of my potion which was beginning to bubble madly. Almost instantly there was a hand on my arm, trying to draw me away. “Move away Sharda.”

I didn’t move quick enough and within the span of a few milliseconds, the potion had flared up angrily and shot outwards, straight into my eyes. A scream of pure agony left me at the sudden _burning_ in my eyes, and the sound was enough to bring a still silence across the room that even Professor Zabini’s unimpressed stare couldn’t achieve. Dropping to my knees in the middle of the classroom with eyes welded shut, I covered my face with my hands as the burning finally eased. 

A still silence followed where no one said a word and then, then there was a hand removing my own away from my face and I clung to the support, not knowing who was offering it. It took a while to force my heart rate to slow with deep breaths that I unconsciously timed to the chest I felt rising and falling unsteadily against the length of my side.

“Can you open your eyes?” the person holding my hand asked and it was then that I realised he was the one who tried to drag me away from my cauldron in the first place. 

Of course, I could. I knew I could but the idea of not being able to do that was enough to have my stomach plummeting. But, after a short moment’s hesitation, I was able to open my eyes and I knew then, that I shouldn’t have been worrying about potentially not opening my eyes, I should have been worrying about something _much_ worse. 

My grip on the hand holding mine tightened fiercely as I forced myself to speak, voice shaking, “I can’t see anything.”

He drew in a sharp breath. “What –”

But before he could say another word, Professor Zabini had finished doling out punishments to the students who had caused this mess and finally kneeled by my side. Clearing his throat to get my attention, Professor Zabini murmured things that I soon realised were potions ingredients under his breath; he was trying to figure out what had happened. 

“Miss Sharda,” he began cautiously, voice low. “Are you alright?”

“Professor,” I struggled to get the words out and my companion thankfully took my place.

“She said she can’t see,” he spoke up.

Professor Zabini breathed in sharply, much like my companion had. “You need to be seen by the matron, quickly. Someone will need to go with you.”

“I’ll go,” my source of comfort offered loudly and Professor Zabini must have given his consent because he reached out to take my other hand in his. When he spoke then, his voice was lower as he assured, “I’m going to help you to your feet, alright?”

“Alright,” I agreed quietly as he dropped my hands and instead grasped me at the top of my arms and helped me gently to my feet. 

When that grip, the one that had been there to comfort me since the very beginning of this darkness, lifted from me suddenly. I tried my best not to reach out for him again but I was terrified, finding myself without his support for the first time. My mind occupied the irrational thought that he would leave me alone but of course, that wasn’t the case.

When he returned, not even seconds later to take my hand, he explained, “I was just getting our bags.”

“Oh,” I murmured, turning towards the sound of his voice as he took my hand and guided it to rest in the crook of his elbow.

“Stay close Sharda,” he warned as he led me through the classroom, warning me when I drew too close to one of the tables and physically moving me out of the way when I struggled to listen to his instructions.

His aid continued all the way to the hospital wing and instead of worrying over my sudden lack vision, I focused on the warmth of his voice, the steady timbre it held and the gentle way he continued to speak to me. I was so focused on his voice that I didn’t realise that we had already arrived at the Hospital Wing. Had it always been such a short walk?

With a firm, but an urgent call for the Matron, he led me over to one of the beds and settled me down comfortably. And then, when the Matron did finally approach us, he explained the situation to her and instead of leaving like I thought he would, he continued to sit with me as the Matron worked and held my hand supportively through it all. 

“This is all temporary,” the Matron assured me. “There’s no need to worry about permanent visual impairment.”

With a relieved breath, I tried not to tense when I felt her wrapping something around my head, specifically over my eyes. Noticing this, the boy who was now seated at my side, leaned in towards me and assured quietly, “It’s just some gauze, she said something about you having it on for the rest of the day. You can take it off before bed.”

“That’s a relief,” I murmured faintly, listening out for the Matron who had started to move away from the bed we were sitting on with the declaration that I was free to return to my common room. But just how was I going to go about doing that?

“I’ll walk you,” he offered as if able to read my thoughts. “You know as a way of apologising for creating this mess.”

“It’s not your fault,” I insisted, even as I clung to his hand as he helped me to my feet. 

My hand found its place at the crook of his elbow as he helped me out of the room. “I was the one that accidentally dropped the ingredient in your cauldron.”

“Well I was the one that stuck my head over the cauldron,” I pointed out. “That’s something we learn not to do in first year.”

“It’s both of our faults then,” he reasoned and I couldn’t help but smile a little. “So, let’s me alleviate the guilt I feel.”

“Alright fine,” I sighed as if he wasn’t helping me. “But I have one question.”

“Go ahead.”

I stopped hesitantly, gnawing on my bottom lip before asking, “What’s your name?”

He burst out into a round of chuckles and the sound was so warm that I struggled not to let my smile grow in return. I wasn’t sure I’d ever met a person whose laugh was such a beautiful sound. 

* * *

Some part of me, a part that was much larger than I liked to admit, had hoped that the Matron’s version of temporary meant that I would wake up after a night of rest and miraculously regain my vision. Of course, that was too much to hope for. And so, when I woke up the next morning once again to darkness that was spotted with a few streams of light, I resigned myself to my fate for another day. Hopefully, tomorrow morning would bring better news. 

My friends were my biggest source of strength as they were the ones to help me after Weasley dropped me off to the common room once we were done in the Hospital Wing. They were also the ones that helped me from my bed in the morning to get ready for the day and just as my lips began to tremble with complete and utter desolation at how useless I was without my sight, they were there to tease me by calling me their favourite burden. A watery giggle was all it took for me to regain my composure as I walked, arm in arm with friends on either side of me. 

But, as we walked into the Great Hall together, I found myself paying much more attention to my friends as they spoke. I liked to think that I was a good listener even _with_ my sight, but without it, I didn’t find my eyes flickering absentmindedly around the hall as we sat. Perhaps losing the sight wasn’t such a bad thing after all? It was, after all, making me a better friend. 

When we finally reached the table, I was thankful for the ways in which magic was able to make our lives much easier. Merlin knew how I would cope doing things like eating if I hadn’t had magic to ease the way. 

As I ate my breakfast, a little more reserved than I usually was, I started suddenly when the length of a thigh was pressed tight against my own as someone settled into the space between me and my nearest friend. I wondered just who the person, with the ability to silence my friends by their simple presence, was. The new person, sitting too close to me, had me shuffling slightly down the bench to get some more space only to overestimate how much space there was remaining for me to go anywhere. Apparently, no one had wanted to tell me that I was sitting on the end of the bench with absolutely _nowhere_ to go and before I could topple to the floor with a resounding thud, an arm quickly wound its way around my side, hauling me back securely onto the bench. 

“Whoa there,” a familiar voice cautioned as the arm finally removed itself from my waist. But I was so scared of the making a fool of myself by falling, I scooted further down the bench until I once again felt the comforting press of a thigh against my own. “No need to be so scared, it’s just me.”

“Weasley?” I asked quietly, the relief evident in my tone. “What are you doing here?”

“I felt so guilty about what happened yesterday,” he started cautiously, his voice sounding so near that I almost thought that he had oriented his body towards my own. “It honestly kept me awake last night until I could figure out a way to make things right. Let me be your eyes until you regain your sight.”

“That’s hardly practical,” I said with a scoff. “You have no reason to be guilty.”

“It _is_ practical,” he said and I could _hear_ him rolling his eyes. “Considering we share all our lessons together.”

“We share all our lessons?” I asked incredulously, feeling my eyebrows rise sharply. How had I never noticed before?

“We do!” 

Although he sounded offended, he didn’t sound _completely_ offended. His words held the undercurrent of amusement which had a smile of my own curling at the corner of my mouth. 

“Sorry,” I said quietly, shrugging as I justified, “I just never noticed. I’m the sort to stick to my friend’s side and don’t tend to have a wide social circle.”

“I noticed,” he murmured dryly. “Look it’s fine; you’ll just have to get used to me hovering around you for a while.”

“It’s not going to be easy to lose you, is it?” I pretended to grumble, my hand moving along the table in search of my glass that Serena had been kind enough to put a straw in. 

But as I continued to fumble my hand across the table, I started slightly in shock when the straw was suddenly pressed against my parted lips. “Here, let me help.”

“Oh, Weasley,” I said in surprise, reaching out and having to practically run my hand along his arm to find the glass. Fidgeting to clasp my hand around the glass, I sent a thankful smile in his vague direction. “Looks like I am going to need you to act as my eyes, after all.”

“I told you, you need me,” he teased as he leaned in close to nudge me, only to hurry to apologise when the glass was almost jostled out of my hand. 

I assured him quietly that it was fine, but still, I found myself listening to him as he spoke quietly to me and listening intently at that. Gradually Weasley expanded the conversation to involve my friends and I found myself gravitating my body towards him. Merlin, I wished I had paid more attention to him _before_ this accident because at least then I would know what he looked like. It was certainly one of the more pressing questions in my mind; what in Helga’s name did Weasley look like? And what was it about the way he looked that had my friends giggling quietly when Weasley momentarily left the Hufflepuff table to get his bag? 

“Sharda,” Weasley called out when he returned to my side and reached out to grab my hand. He squeezed it tight as if to reassure me that he was there. “Ready to go?”

* * *

I should have realised that Weasley’s offer to be my eyes meant that he would have to sit next to me to help me throughout our shared lessons. Before the first lesson had begun, Weasley cast a charm on my quill to make it automatically take notes of what the Professor was saying. The downside to the automatic notes meant that I knew I didn’t need to concentrate on the actual lesson. And Merlin, that was a dangerous realisation for me to come to considering that I had trouble concentrating in the first place.

The more my concentration wandered away from Professor McGonagall’s authoritative voice, the more I found myself focusing on Weasley’s presence. With my current inability to see, his presence was heightened and I swore I could feel the heat radiating off of his body towards my own. The realisation was certainly enough to have me shuffling awkwardly in my seat as I retreated into myself. Weasley, detecting the shift in my mood, was quick to draw me out of my bubble and Helga, I was surprised at just how quick it was. From his easy natured approach and the way, he knew exactly what to talk to me about, I could tell that he was rather well versed in making friends. No doubt he was popular. 

As the lesson finally drew to a close, Weasley was there taking my hands away from my things as I tried to pack everything up. Forcing myself to hold my hands uselessly in my lap, I waited for Weasley to eventually pass me my bag which he had packed for me. Rising to my feet, I held my hand out almost expectantly for the bag and Weasley was there with a quiet chuckle to draw my outstretched arm through his. 

As we walked out of the classroom and towards my common room, Weasley decided that it was best to fill me in on his entire life story, whilst periodically dotting his words with cautionary remarks when I drew too close to something. I was so content to listen to the soothing lull of his voice that let him continue to talk about his childhood even though I really had no reason to know any of it. I was so focused on his voice that I almost completely missed what he was saying to me – 

“Hold on,” I cut in quietly, glancing in the direction that his voice was coming from. “Did you just say that you’re part veela?”

“I don’t really like to talk about it,” he started so hesitantly that I squeezed his arm reassuringly.

“We don’t have to talk about it then,” I offered, moving closer towards him when he warned me of a group of approaching students. I waited for the sound of their voices to drift further away before moving out of Weasley’s personal space. 

“I don’t like talking about it because most people feel the effects of my veela appeal,” he started after a long moment and instead of asking him why he was talking about something he so clearly didn’t want to speak about, I just let him talk. If he felt like opening up to me about this, then who was I to stop him? “Most people want to get close to me because of the way I look and I know I shouldn’t hate it because they can’t fight it. But _Rowena_ , I hate it.”

“At least you have me,” I offered optimistically with a smile. “If it makes you feel better, I can picture you as a troll and I’d _still_ want to be your friend.”

“You have to _imagine_ what I look like?” he asked incredulously. “You’ve really never seen my face before?”

“I make it a habit not to stare at random people,” I murmured defensively.

“That’s probably a good thing and –” He drew me into him suddenly, ignoring the way I gasped in surprise as I found myself pressed against his chest. My head tilted up to where I assumed his head was and I swallowed thickly when he finally released me, continuing to lead me through the hallway. “Sorry about that – there was a group of first years running past us so I didn’t get the chance to warn you.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” I assured him as we started to walk again. “How close are we to the common room?”

“We just need to turn the next corner,” he explained. “You’ll be able to get in, right? The last time your friends caught us halfway so I don’t know the password.”

“Our common room doesn’t have a password,” I murmured hesitantly. Should I be telling him this? He _was_ from another house, even if he was currently acting as my eyes. “You need to tap on one of the barrels; the middle one on the second row has to be tapped to the rhythm of our founder's name.”

“That’s certainly … interesting.”

“Hey!” I defended, “Your house makes you answer a riddle to get in. At least ours doesn’t run the risk of people not making their way in.”

“That _has_ happened before,” he agreed as we finally came to a stop. “Granted, it’s happened to _me_ before.”

“Really?” I asked with a small laugh. 

“I was off my face though,” he added as an afterthought. Removing my arm from his, Weasley’s hand lingered on my own for a moment before asking, “To the tune of Helga Hufflepuff, yeah?”

“Yep.”

I waited, listening out for the tapping and smiled when he got it right. Extending my hands out in front of me, I walked forward and tried to find the wall in order to figure out where the entrance of the common room was. But before I made it even a few steps, Weasley's arm was winding around my waist and drawing me into his side so he could lead me in.

“Your house is the nice house, right?” he asked, his nose brushing against my hair as he turned to whisper in my ear. “They’re not going to hex me when I walk in, are they?”

“As long as you don’t try to set the common room on fire,” I said with a laugh, taking a slow step when Weasley warned me of the raised step that led to the path into the common room.

“Set the common room on fire?”

“It’s a surprisingly regular occurrence.”

“I’m almost scared to ask.”

“You probably shouldn’t,” I agreed as, from the sound of voices surrounding us, we reached the common room. “Do you see the sofas in the middle of the room? If you just drop me off over there, then you can clock out of having to help me for the day.”

“It’s not a burden,” he assured me. “Besides, your friends are rushing towards us. I think they want me to shift you over.”

“Looks like they’re here to release you of your responsibilities,” I murmured and seconds later, I found myself being drawn out of Weasley’s arm and towards my friends. 

Throwing a quick wave and parting words at where I assumed Weasley was, I hurriedly listened to my friends who started to talk about him. Helga, I hoped they had the decency to wait for him until he had left the room. 

“He’s so handsome,” Serena started from my left side. 

“He’s really smart,” I pointed out with furrowed brows only for Angela to interrupt. 

“But his _eyes –_ ”

“- he’s actually got an amazing sense of humour –”

“Oh, did you see the way he _smiles?”_

Instead of bothering to point out yet another feature of Weasley that wasn’t to do with his looks, I settled into my seat with a resigned sigh. I could certainly see what he meant about the whole outer appearance thing. If people only ever saw you as a pretty piece of flesh and didn’t bother to look past that, why would you bother to get close to them? 

* * *

In one of the very few occasions where the corridor was almost completely silent, I found myself walking arm in arm with my friends to the library. They were planning to drop me off before heading over to watch today’s Quidditch game; Slytherin vs Gryffindor and apparently that alone meant it would be a match that very few people wanted to miss. Part of me wanted to protest about being dropped off at the library because what was I going to do there if I couldn’t see? Only I kept my protests to myself. I couldn’t exactly fault them when I always hid out in the library whilst there was a match on. I would just have to be creative about what I did with my time. 

A quiet call of my name had me turning toward Poonam who was suddenly speaking in my ear, “Weasley is walking this way. It looks like he wants to talk to you.”

And before I could say anything in response, even something as simple as asking what he was doing here, my friends had brought me to a halt as I assumed we finally came face to face with Weasley. And sure enough, the Ravenclaw greeted all of my friends in turn before finally greeting me. But Helga, it must have been my imagination that heard the smile in his voice when he finally called my name.

“What are you doing here?” I asked after returning his greeting. “Aren’t you going to watch the match?”

“I could ask you that,” he retorted with a slight chuckle. 

“She doesn’t like Quidditch,” Annabella explained from somewhere behind me. 

“It’s not that,” I hurried to explain before he could get offended. From my own experience, I knew how testy some quidditch fanatics could become when presented with someone that _didn’t_ like the game. “I actually have a really bad fear of heights. Even going up to the stands makes me feel nervous to the point of being sick.”

“That’s probably why I never see you during the matches. You’re always hiding out somewhere.” There was a short pause that made me want to see if only for a few seconds so that I could see what was going on. Merlin, I had the worst feeling that my friends were doing something embarrassing. “Where are you going to hide out today?”

“We’re going to drop her off to the library,” Poonam explained slowly.

“The library?” I could hear the incredulous amusement in his voice and the sound of it brought a small smile to my lips which I was quick to hide. “ _Really_?”

“I usually like spending a lot of time there,” I defended before my friends could get upset.

“You girls probably want to watch the match,” Weasley began after a moment, reaching out to take my hand. His hand, one that I was growing rapidly familiar with, had me moving into his hold, turning my hand to properly hold his. With very little pressure he managed to draw me out of the protective arms of my friends and towards his own, “Why don’t I stay in charge of looking after Sharda for a while? Give you a break?”

“He’s right,” I said before my friends could protests. Not that they would. Weasley, accepting my consent, shifted my hand into the crook of his arm. “If you hurry, you’ll manage to make it down to the pitch even before the whistle is blown.”

It took very little prompting for my friends to agree and rather surprisingly they went off without a single teasing remark. No doubt they were saving all of that until we were back in the safety of the common room. The time we spent apart would give them all the time they needed to come up with all sorts of strange and mindboggling questions that they would need answers for. How was I even going to begin to answer them?

“Now that your friends have gone,” Weasley began as he started to lead me towards the library, “you can tell me where this idea of going to the library came from. Surely you knew that it would be impossible for you to actually do anything whilst you’re there? You don’t even know the spells that make the books recite their content aloud.”

“I usually like to stay in the library,” I confessed quietly with a helpless shrug. “But, I didn’t suggest it this time. I guess my friends just assumed that it was a given thing.”

“Well, now you have me to rely on.”

“I guess I do.”

We walked in companionable silence for moments longer and I felt no need to fill it with mindless chatter and it didn’t even become awkward as the silence grew deeper. Instead, with my arm resting comfortably in the crook of his elbow, I was content just to feel his presence at my side. Well, that was until Weasley reached out to take my free hand and wrapped it around something. 

“Careful of your step,” he warned by my ear and making me realise that we were climbing some stairs. My hand tightened around what I now knew was a handrail for the stairs and took the first tentative step with Weasley’s encouragement in my ear.

“We’re obviously not going to the library,” I said after gathering my bearing about how far apart the stairs were spaced. “So where are we going then?”

“You’ll see,” he evaded.

“I don’t think I will,” I murmured dryly, prompting a surprised snort from him.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’ve been making those sorts of comments since the accident. It drives my friends mad.” The staircase we were climbing didn’t seem like it would be ending any point soon and I continued to climb it. Only to halt midstep when I felt a gust of wind brush right past me. Instantly my hand tightened on the handrail, expecting my stomach to drop as I realised where we were. Usually right about now my stomach would be a mess, my legs would be shaking and my only thought would be of running back down the stairs. There was none of that.

Weasley, growing concerned about my sudden stillness, released my hand from his arm and held it tight. His palm was warm and comforting against my own as he asked, “What’s the matter?”

“We’re at the Astronomy Tower,” I started eventually, my words a mere whisper in the wind, “aren’t we?”

“I thought this might be a good time for you to come up here,” he started guiltily, turning as if to escort me back down the stairs. But I held firm.

“It’s fine, Weasley.” I insisted, “Usually I’d be terrified by now. But I guess not seeing has some advantages after all. Let’s keep going,”

“Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly and I nodded instantly.

“I dropped Astronomy the moment I could.” Licking my bottom lip nervously, I added, “Even when I took the subject, I didn’t ever really appreciate it, maybe I will this time.”

“Well, with me by your side you definitely will,” he assured me, sounding more confident now that I had agreed.

We climbed the rest of the stairs until we reached the top and then Weasley was leading me towards the outmost part of the tower and securing my hands around the railings. Merlin, this wasn’t the first or even the hundredth time I had been at the top of the tower and yet it felt completely new. Despite not being able to _see_ how high the Tower was, I still _knew_ how high we were but none of the fear was there. Instead of cowering away from the railing, I simply curled my hands tighter around the cool metal and tilted my head towards the wind with a serene smile. 

“What are you thinking?” Weasley asked suddenly, moving closer towards me until I felt the length of his arms press against my side.

“Nothing,” I admitted truthfully, turning towards the sound of his voice. “For once, I’m not thinking of a thing. What are _you_ thinking of?”

“I was wondering if you’ve ever fallen in love,” he confessed abruptly. His words were so odd that I found myself drawing slightly away from him.

“What? Why do you ask?”

“Have you?” he asked insistently and for one moment, I contemplated lying. But I decided against it; the more time I spent with Weasley, the better he got at reading my face. Eventually, I had to shake my head slowly; I’d had crushes of course but love, love was a different matter. “Well, would you like to fall in love?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“What would you do if I made you fall for me?” he questioned unhurriedly, his voice sounding even closer now. 

“You sound awfully confident,” I murmured, lifting a hand from the railing to try and push his shoulder. Obviously, I missed, swatting at mid-air until Weasley took my hand in his and guided it to his shoulder. With a playful frown, I hit his shoulder and was slow to move it away

“You didn’t disagree,” he pointed out and I couldn’t help but laugh. Only, the moment he spoke next, his voice was so uncharacteristically serious that my laughter dried up. “What if I told you that I liked you?”

“I would tell you that I like you too,” I confessed slowly. “We’ve become unlikely friends.”

“No,” he denied insistently. “As something more. I know you’re surprised but I’m not pushing you into anything. I just wanted you to know.”

“Alright then,” I murmured awkwardly, hurriedly turning to face forward again. 

“Even if I didn’t mean to, I’ve made things awkward,” he murmured and I couldn’t contest his words when they were the truth. So instead, I remained silent and when, minutes later, his hand had moved across the railing to cover my own, I didn’t draw away. I might have just shuffled a little closer to him. 

* * *

Weasley had picked up the habit of attending each of my visits to the Matron like, as the Matron herself had described, an expectant father hovering over the mother of his child. It was endearing that he wanted to be by my side as I went through my daily check-ups. But understandably he couldn’t attend each of my visits, I even went out of my way to make sure that he missed quite a few of them. I just couldn’t force him to sit in the Hospital Wing with me as the Matron ran the same tests each and every time.

Somehow, and no doubt Poonam was the reason behind it all, he always knew when he missed one of my appointments and he would turn up, _just_ as the Matron had dismissed me. Every time that happened, I would always get a telling off from the Ravenclaw who would steer me towards a quieter part of the castle. It hadn’t taken him long to realise that with my sight gone, my hearing was a little more sensitive. 

“So where is today’s quiet place?” I asked once Weasley walked me towards a seat and had me sit down on what I soon realised was a stool.

“An abandoned classroom,” he explained following the sound of the door shutting. “There are dozens of them all around the castle.”

“How do you know all of these places? Especially all of the secret passages?”

“My dad told me all about the secrets of the castle.” Nodding in acceptance, I started to swing my legs slowly. “What did the Matron say today?”

“She thinks my sight should return in a few days,” I admitted with a relieved smile. “This has been an interesting experience, but it’s not one I really want to go through again.”

“When you regain your sight,” Weasley began slowly only to cut himself off.

I waited and waited expectantly to hear what it was that he wanted to say but he didn’t finish his sentence. “You can ask.”

“When you regain your sight,” he began again, each of his words accompanied by an approaching footstep, “what do you think will happen? Will you still like to be friends – or something else – with me?”

“Why would my being able to see affect that?” I wondered quietly, extending an arm out in the hopes that he was near enough to touch. He wasn’t, but that didn’t stop me from extending my hand out for his and sure enough, he slipped his hand into my open palm. Lifting my free hand, I held his between both of mine. “What about you Weasley? Once my eyesight is back and your guilt has worn off, will you still want to be around me?”

“I already told you that I’m mad for you,” he said with an amused sigh, “and here you are, asking if I’ll voluntarily stop being around you?”

“Weasley –”

“You’re the only person that hasn’t realised that I took this opportunity to get closer to you,” he interrupted. “And Rowena, I’m not leaving your side until you explicitly tell me that’s what you want. So, is that what you want? For me to leave you alone?”

Even without being able to see his face, I could feel the weight of his gaze on mine. Lowering my eyes towards the floor, I evaded the question, “Part of me wishes that I knew what you looked like.”

“Why? So, you can decide if I’m good looking enough for you?” he teased, not taking offence with my lack of an answer. 

“Actually, so I can see if you’ve been lying to me all along.” I lifted my head again, adding as an afterthought, “Not that it would matter.”

“Well maybe you can,” he suggested, removing his hand from where I still held it between mine. 

“Not for a few days yet,” I reminded him, faltering for a moment when he grasped my hand again and raised it until the tips of my fingers brushed against his cheek. My mouth parted in protest, “Weasley – ”

“Go ahead,” he murmured encouragingly, moving my hand so that my fingers were resting against the bridge of his nose. He held it there for a long moment before eventually releasing his hold, waiting. 

I froze for a moment, drawing my bottom lip into my mouth. My first name fell reassuringly from his mouth, prompting me forward and with slow, searching fingers I catalogued each of his features onto the map stored in my mind. Cautious of how my fingers would feel against his skin, I kept my touch light as I reached the lashes of his eyes. 

“What colour are they?” I murmured the question as my fingertips moved slowly towards the rise of his cheekbones.

“A boring blue,” he confessed quietly, nothing more than a whisper as if he was scared that speaking any louder would scare me away. His words ended abruptly as my fingers reached the corner of his mouth and I quickly tried to draw my hand away.

Weasley beat me to it, grasping my hand firmly in his again. “Don’t.”

Raising my hand once again to his face, Weasley was slow to bring my palm to rest against his mouth. I held my breath, waiting and wondering. He answered my silent question in the next moment, pressing a gentle kiss to the centre of my palm. Neither of us moved; Weasley was lax to release the gentle but firm hold he had on me and the last thing I wanted to do was burst the bubble surrounding us by moving away from him. 

* * *

Whoever had taught our Matron everything she knew, had certainly done a good job. My sight returned to me on the very same day as she had predicted, and if I hadn’t been so overly relieved at being able to see, I would have been more impressed. But as it stood, my happiness was so overwhelming that I spent a good ten minutes just lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing I had ever seen. After all, it _had_ been the first thing I saw after regaining my sight. 

After hurrying out of bed and getting ready for the day, I reported to the Matron who was pleased with my news. She ran a few more tests before declaring that there were no lasting issues relating to my temporary blindness and that I was free to go. So, I headed into breakfast with a spring in my step only to be confronted by my worried friends who lectured me about heading out on my own without at least waking one of them. They were so focused on giving me a good telling off that didn’t even notice that I was able to see until right at the end. And by that point, they were so wonderstruck that they simply stared at me in silence for a moment. 

Once I had managed to break them out of their shock and assured them that everything was fine, we settled down for breakfast. I tried my best to listen to everything that they were saying but I couldn’t help but shoot continuous glances towards the Ravenclaw table from over Angela’s shoulder; was Weasley sitting at the table? Even if he was, how would I recognise which one he was? My friends, recognising my distracted state but likely not knowing the reason behind it, suggested that if we headed to our first lesson of the day I might feel better. 

Agreeing to the suggestion, I let them walk me to Transfiguration, despite no longer needing help to do so. Reaching the classroom that was slowly filling up with pupils, I took my usual seat and set about slowly removing my things from my bag. I was busy rifling through my bag in search of my quill which I _always_ seemed to lose when Poonam elbowed me to get my attention.

“What is it?” I asked, turning curiously towards her and raising an eyebrow when she gestured to the front of the classroom.

Following her gaze, I watched as she gestured towards a group of Ravenclaw boys standing at the front of the classroom. Was Weasley included in that little group? The majority of the Ravenclaws headed towards their usual seats on the other side of the classroom whilst a single lone male broke off from the group and heading towards our side. I didn’t bother paying him any attention as I resumed my search for my quill. 

“Where were you?” The question, one that I knew was being asked to me had me pausing in my search as I instantly realised who was speaking. Whilst I certainly wouldn’t have been able to pick out the owner of the voice from a lineup, I certainly could do it from sound alone. My head shot up suddenly, eyes focusing intently on the Ravenclaw standing directly in front of my desk. A boring blue, my foot. “Well? I told you that I would walk you to the Hospital Wing in the morning but you disappeared.”

“I went early,” I managed eventually, failing to draw my eyes away from his own.

“Early?” he repeated worriedly, brows drawing together in a rather endearing manner. 

“I needed to see her early,” I explained, ignoring the way Poonam had to cough beside me to hide a laugh at how ridiculous she was finding my behaviour. How could she possibly understand how I felt? I’d spent an immeasurable amount of time trying to create a mental image for the way Louis looked in my mind and clearly, my mental image had been wrong. Very wrong. And now I could see what he meant about his veela genetics. “I can see now.”

“You can –” he struggled for a moment as if physically unable to understand my words. “What?”

“Sit,” Poonam ordered suddenly, shattering the consistent eye contact we had been sharing. We both turned to watch as she rose from her seat beside me and gestured for Louis to take her place. “You can sit here for the lesson.”

Louis waited for Poonam to leave before settling into space she previously occupied and even as he moved around the table, I struggled to draw my eyes away from him. Actually, being able to see him was a miracle altogether. Even as he sat, Louis turned in his seat to face me and I found myself doing the same. 

“You can really see?” he repeated questioningly, searching my face. 

I found my own eyes doing the same as I thought with a frown that he really was handsome. Part of me had been wishing that he was lying even if only to give his ego the knock it had been asking for. 

“I can,” I agreed with a small, hesitant smile. “One of the first things I wanted to see after getting my sight back was your face. I wanted you to be lying about being handsome because it’s really not fair for one person to have everything.”

He laughed then, startled by my words and the sound, one I had grown used to hearing by my ear, brought an instant smile to my face. Holding his gaze, I struggled to think of something to say but Professor McGonagall clearly didn’t have any intention of allowing the conversation to progress to further as she walked to the front of the class to begin the lesson. With a reluctant sigh, we turned back to face the Professor as I returned to my search for my quill.

“You know,” I started quietly, once I had managed to find it hidden right at the bottom of my bag, “it’s going to be odd not having you around me all the time.”

“I told you,” he assured me, reaching out to take my hand in his, “I’m not leaving you unless you tell me to.”

Eyes flickering towards the front of the classroom, Louis lowered our joined hands under the table to hide them from prying eyes. With a secret smile, he laid them to rest atop his thigh as he began to take notes with his free hand; it was certainly a good thing that he was left-handed. 

“I’m not telling you to leave me.”

“I’m that good looking, huh?”

“Oh please,” I scoffed, shooting a look towards him, “I honestly think I would miss your presence too much if you disappeared out of my life.”


	2. Epilogue: 2 Years Later

_2 YEARS LATER_

Louis, when it came down to it, was a rather jealous boyfriend. Which, when I thought about it, was absolutely ridiculous. Out of the pair of us, it made only made sense for me to be the one with the tendency of being jealous but that just wasn’t the case. It wasn’t as if I didn’t feel the occasional and _very_ rare stab of jealousy, because I did, but I didn’t feel it on any degree as often as Louis did. It just made no sense; he was the one out of my league and that was the truth. No matter how often he tried to protest otherwise. 

Whenever I made a comment about how pointless his jealousy was, he just made a comment about how his jealousy was a completely natural coping response when you considered just how long it had been since we had seen each other. Long-distance relationships were hard to maintain, we both entered this stage of our lives knowing that and we’d agreed to it regardless. Besides, _he_ had been the one to decide that he wanted to complete some further studying in France and like the supportive girlfriend I was, I sent him off with a kiss and words of support.

Only it _had_ been a long time since our schedules had matched up and granted us the chance to physically see one another. Almost 6 months from what I remembered. But I had a surprise for him, one that would hopefully help melt away the stress that he had written about in his last letter. 

Arriving at the French ministry, it took a rather unnecessary amount of time to pass through the security process before they declared that it was officially alright for me to be set free in the country. But I dithered a moment longer, making sure that I got all the directions that I needed so that I didn’t wind up roaming around like a headless chicken in a country where I had no way of communicating. Helga, I knew I should have brushed up on my French before planning this trip. 

Earlier on in our relationship, Louis had offered to teach me but his French lessons soon devolved into him simply teaching me as many swear words as he knew in his second language. So, I guess, if anyone tried anything, then I could certainly offer them a few choice words. 

However, it was thanks to the very helpful and concise directions given to me in English by the _very_ helpful ministry worker, that I found myself effortlessly navigating my way through the town. Reaching the bottom of the long, step by step, list of directions, I found myself standing in front of a large building made up of multiple apartments. Casting a glance over the entirety of the building, I worried my bottom lip when I remembered that Louis was staying in one of the top floors. Merlin, I _hated_ heights.

Releasing a deep breath, I forced myself to push open the large doors at the entrance and walked into the lobby. Looking around the room and finding the security wizard standing behind the front desk, I crossed the room with a relieved smile; I was almost there. The guard took his job very seriously and wouldn’t let anyone up to see the residents unless the residents themselves came to escort them up. And, because Louis was adamant on making sure I knew his whereabouts for each minute, I knew that he had just returned from his last lecture of the day. 

But as I came to the desk, I found myself presented with another obstacle; speaking in my horrendous French. Forcing myself to spit the words out, I reached the end of my sentence and stared cautiously at the older man who stared at me for a long moment before eventually cracking a smile.

“You’re French is appalling,” he said softly in accented English, prompting an incredulous laugh from me. “But my English is pretty good.”

“Oh, thank Merlin.” I let out a breath, releasing the tension that filled me at the idea of having to speak French. “I’m here to see my boyfriend; Louis Weasley?”

“The man living in 12A?” he said instantly, sending a message for Louis to come down to greet me. “That makes you the beautiful girlfriend he keeps talking about? The one that he sends letters to almost every day.”

“If Louis had his way, it would be every day,” I confessed with a laugh. Now that I was so very close to seeing him, I could feel the excitement beginning to brim inside of me. The 6 months of agonising waiting, each minute marked with loneliness, was almost over. 

“Louis?” a voice repeated from behind me, startling the guard as much as it startled me. We both glanced towards the woman standing behind me. She didn’t appear much older than me, but she carried herself with a sort of confidence that very few people possessed and Merlin, that intimidated me. She crossed the space between us, coming to a stop next to me and raking her eyes over me. I shuffled on my feet, knowing that I was being scrutinised. “ _You’re_ his girlfriend.”

I nodded slowly, trying not to feed the green monster that was growing in my stomach. “And you are?”

“She lives in the floor above Mr Weasley,” the older wizard explained, drawing my eyes away from the French witch. 

“I see,” I murmured, glancing sharply to the left when I heard the sound of thundering footsteps. 

Turning completely, I watched as a clearly out of breath Louis ran into the lobby. He scanned the room with hurried eyes which only rested when they landed on me and then, just like that, I was smiling. He continued to watch me for a few moments before he was returning the smile with a blinding one of his own as he rushed towards me again.

Wrapping his arms around my waist, Louis drew me into his arms and lifted me clear of the ground. And Merlin help me, I giggled like a bloody third year as I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on tight to him. 

“Did you run down the stairs from the 12th floor?” I asked, burrowing my face into the crook of his neck. 

“I didn’t want to wait for the lift,” he explained with a chuckle, lowering me until my feet were once again settled firmly on the ground. 

“You’re unbelievable.” Hearing the fondness in my voice, he smiled even further, eyes softening as I brought a hand up to brush some of his hair back. 

“Says _you_. You’re the one that miraculously appeared in France! In your last letter, you said you were busy until the end of next month.”

“A lie. One I carried off very well if I _do_ say so myself.” Louis leaned down to press a kiss to the tip of my nose and I flushed red, remembering that we had company. “You have me until the end of the week and then I need to go back.”

“That’s enough time,” he assured me before releasing me fully. 

He took my hand in his, bringing it to rest in the crook of his elbow and preparing to escort me away. But he paused mid-step, saying something in rapid French to the older wizard that had helped me before moving to leave. Only this time I was the one to stop, to thank the older wizard and also to send a final assessing glance to the other witch who still remained by the desk. It was very rare that I felt jealous and I would sooner leave France than tell Louis that I didn’t like the woman living in the flat above his. 

So instead, I turned back to Louis and with a smile and a kiss to the underside of his jaw, I ordered, “Lead the way.”


End file.
